The Downpour

The first big rainfall of the rainy season came today. The thunder was so strong it woke me up in the morning, and lightning at 8 a.m. - can you imagine? And I heard lots of sirens too...

A surprising number of people used umbrellas on the street, some wore shower caps or tied platic bags around their heads. Others used a towel or a newspaper to keep their heads dry. But most just used nothing at all, and walked around as normal.

The traffic calmed down. It was the first time I saw drivers in Dakar going at a reasonable pace and slowing for oncoming traffic. The bus had to take a detour because of flooded roads - it would go up one way, realize it couldn't get through, turn around and try a different route. I don't know what happens to the people on the original route waiting for the bus, but we picked up more people along the new route! (The bus driver of course, wipes his windshield with his hand in order to see)

Anyways, so the detour caused me to have no idea where we were (I only know specific routes and landmarks) so of course I missed my stop, had to get off the bus and walk for a good 20 minutes in the rain. Once I got close to the office - the whole street was flooded... literally, there was nowhere to go. The guy before me used some cement blocks that were in the midst of the puddles, in order to make it across... I got up onto one of them, stood there for about two minutes, and realized there was no way I would be able to hop from one to the other without falling off the blocks and into the water. So I chose to walk through the water instead. I awkwardly climbed down off the block, and wadded through the water, only to realize that a group of little boys who were watching me go through this whole process were getting a good laugh out of it !

Anyways, I'm glad I invested in the $100 MEC rain jacket... !

The Universal Touch

First of all, who is still.searching? I read your comments, but I don't know who you are !

So get this.
Friday night, I was standing in a sand pit watching black men in underwear roll around in the sand wrestling. Saturday, I was sitting in a luxurious garden in a Canadian guy's villa, eating bre and gouda cheese, amongst reporters/photographers from Reuters, New York Times, etc. You can have it all here, there are so many different sides to this city. It's a little destabilizing actually - because you start wondering who you want to be, and where you fit. So as I was debating these philosophical questions (having a bit of an identity crisis actually), I walked by some 7-year-old boys playing soccer on the street. I asked one of them what his name was, he said "Ronaldino" and that was it... in my flip flops and with my purse on my shoulder, i ran around with the kids, and felt great ! It's amazing what a bit of soccer can do for the soul.... No more questions of identity - i know where I belong, whether in Africa or Canada - on the soccer field !

Speaking of soccer, one of the guys from the house took me for some real soccer at the college next to where we live... and intsead of being the only white person, I was the only girl (Not so different from Canada)... and surprsingly quickly the guys got past that, and I was in there getting dirty and sweaty like the rest of them. A few notes on the soccer... the Senegalese play soccer in sand of course, with dust flying everywhere... and they play in sandals - literally plastic beach sandals... they run in them, they play in them. It's like the footwear of choice here, it's so funny ! Sometimes they have a real ball, other times it's a flat tiny thing that barely rolls... sometimes they use boulders of cement they find on the street as nets, and draw a line in the sand... anyways, it's incredible how little you need to play the game... the universal game of soccer....

A few other observations about universality... (I'm trying to make a smooth transition, but it's a bit of a stretch I know)
I remember thinking long ago how Africans have so little, but they're so much happier than we are in North America. I had this idea that in traditional societies, people have a better sense of what's important in life - they value family and togetherness, they're less concerned about money and success - and are just generally happier people.
But I think that's a bit naive. At one of the drumming ceremonies I was at, I spent some time just looking around, watching the people. There were boys bullying other boys. There were the loner kids sitting alone in the corner with no friends. There were 12-year-old girls wearing miniskirts and holter tops. There's materialism here, just like anywhere else. I guess certain aspects of human nature are simply universal.

Anyways, those are just some thoughts for the moment.
More to follow I'm sure.

Atouman's World

Hey everyone - first I'll update you on the good news, because apparently some of you are unnecessarily worried about me! Both my luggages have now arrived - the second one had been sent to Beirut if you can imagine, and was brought back by Air Italia - crazy ! And I am not malnourished! The food situation has stabilized, and I'm getting more than enough so don't worry...

Ok, onto the post:

Until recently, I had been a little disapointed that I wasn't getting as much access/exposure to Senegalese culture as I expected (and certainly not as much as when I was in Spain, where I was constantly running into interesting people and things). I attribute that largely to the fact that I don't have as much time (since I work five days a week) and I didn't know the right people....

Enter Atouman.

Atouman Gueye, 22 years old, djembe player. He lives next door to the hairdresser where I got my hair braided. He hangs around there a lot and the girls who work there know him well, so that's how I got to know him. Anyways, since then, he has introduced me to a whole new world.(Here's Ndieme on the left, who did my braids, and at the beach, Atouman and Maud (a French intern at work)

So last weekend, Atouman took me to a ceremony - well really a huge neighbhourhood party - where the young girls of the neighbourhood get dressed up in matching green sparkly dresses, do their hair and so on, and organize this big party. Chairs are set up in a huge rectangle right on the street, big speakers play music, lights are shining, etc. Then around 11pm, the WHOLE neighbourhood piles onto the street, crowding around this rectangle - it must have been like 500 people. I of course, was the only white person there. (Can you find Waldo in the picture?)

Atouman is part of a group of drummers who perform at ceremonies like these ones (this was just a fun party to celebrate summer time, but others, for example, celebrate the confirmation that a woman is a virgin after her first night with ther husband). Musicians are highly respected in Senegalese culture, going back I think to when there were (there still are to a large extent) social classes. Musicians/drummers/dancers/performers are part of the Grillo class I think. Anyways, Atouman's group wasn't performing that night, but another group asked him to play. It was about 8 guys, playing Sabars, which are like Djembes, only you play them with one hand, and the other using a little stick.

So the drummers drum for hours - and I'm talking serious drumming - to the point that sweat is just flowing from their faces. And then the girls - the dressed up ones as well as others from the neighbourhood, and some older women too - come up to the drummers, do a quick dance and run back to their seats. Their dancing is like nothing you've ever seen, and fascinating to watch. Their hands wave around and their legs are spread wide - it's almost like a gorilla jumping around, but faster and very intense! Often the dancer will match herself to the drumming, adding a little shake of the bum as a finale.

Then came the chanting and singing, because the drummers only get money by having women drop bills into their hands, so they chant to the women .... including me... All of a sudden I hear the word 'Toubab' which means foreigner... And they started chanting in Wolof/French 'Hey foreigner, give us money!' ... everyone was singing and looking at me and it was so funny !

So this was an incredible experience for me...

The next time I hung out with Atouman, he took me to meet his father's wife's family (not his own mother, but they are still close). Off the street, there are a number of clay buildings and alleywalls. When you go down those alleyways, little curtains in doorways lead directly into people's bedrooms. It's crazy. Imagine having your bedroom lead right onto the street! Anyways, so in one of these bedrooms, there were like 15 people crowded into the room watching a TV report about the big wrestling match over the weekend. Wrestling - or 'la lutte' - is the national sport in Senegal and a huge deal. This weekend was an important match, and featured our very own Gris-Bordeaux (from my neighbourhood of Dakar: Fass) against a big hot shot, Bombardier, from elsewhere in Senegal. So everyone was very excited. (Gris-Bordeaux won, but I think he just got lucky)... Anyways, as we're watching, people jump in from the alleyway to grap a peak, and everyone knows each other of course.

At one point, a girl handed me a plastic sack with some liquid inside and a knot at the top keeping it from leaking. I didn't know what she wanted me to do with it. It turned out it was some kind of food - like couscous in a sweet milky liquid - and she wanted me to try it. I had no idea how I was supposed to consume it. Atouman poked a whole in the bag, put it to his mouth and just sucked on it. I of course had to do the same, and then pass it around. Tasted pretty good, I guess!

Anywyas, so Atouman seems to be my key into a whole other world. He's determined he's going to teach me how to dance, drum and speak Wolof. A little too ambitious if you ask me, but we'll see...

The non-internet era

Hello everyone!

It's been a while... It has been harder and harder to post and here's why. For the last week, there has been a power outage almost every day at the home for a number of hours each time. (I have internet access at work, but after being there for 10 hours, you just want to get out!) So when the outages come around, not only is there no internet, there's no light, and usually no water! I didn't shower this morning, because of the water outage, which is fine and all if you're in Canada, but when it's hot and sticky, a daily shower is a necessity! The worst is when you start showering, get covered in soap, and then the water stops... haha... that's happened to me twice.

Here's me in a moment of desperation, washing my clothes with water that was stored in case of water outages, and a flashlight that Chris - the American who is staying at the house - hung from a clothesline... It looks light out because of the flash, but in reality it was dark!

Speaking of electricity, I wrote an article about the debate surrounding using computers in African schools - and that was an interesting element that came up - that now these schools have computers, but they still don't have consistent electricity ! And what does that say ?.... Read the article to find out! (http://www.irinnews.org/Report.aspx?ReportId=73348)

There have been other moments of twisting and turning in bed because the fan wasn't working and the heat was overwhelming, and add to that the itchiness of my scalp because of the braids... more than 10 hours of labour, and here is the result: (that's Chris in the picture - he's on some kind of study abroad program for a month and a half. He's got one week left and I think the power outages are pushing him over the edge! He's ready to go home. His theory is that Senegal can't produce enough of its own power, and can't afford to buy power from outside, so it's just on a rotating blackout cycle, from neighbourhood to neighbourhood around the country)

Anyways, there was a rough patch for a while, adjusting to all this... AND get this: One of my suitcases finally came, two and a half weeks late. I was all excited, picked it up from the airport, took it home, opened it, only to find my clothes full of mold (check it out) I guess they left the bag out in the rain! So, yah, hebster was a bit grumpy for a while, but I'm better now...

As for the house, it's not too bad actually. There are lots of interesting (somewhat crazy) people living there: Kals, tall and lanky, absolutely weird, responds to everything you say with a comment that makes no sense but makes you laugh; Malick, short with dreads, and a djembe player; Lamine (or El-Amin in Arabic), wannabe philosopher who loves to discuss ideas - and who at dinner is sure to throw some cut up meat onto my side of the communcal plate because I suppose he thinks I won't get enough to eat otherwise! And my favourite of them all: Aida, the little baby...

Otherwise, no malaria yet ( I bought some pills here that I have begun taking)... I think I am going to start jogging/playing football (wow, I just naturally called it football and not soccer!). The Senegalese love "le sport" as they call it, which is basically just running. You see them everywhere running on the street or along the beach, with sandals, half the time, and usually in packs. So I figured, I might as well get into it too!

Anyways, I hear it's raining buckets in Canada, so I hope you're all doing well despite the miserable weather... take care.

People... Ideas...

Well there's lots of them! - both the people and the ideas. And they come from everywhere - the women in the hair salon, the men at the dinner table, the djembe (drum) players. So here's a selection of interesting thoughts I've come across....

1 - Osama bin Laden does not exist. Seriously. One of the guys that frequent my house, El-Amin (there are many people who are part of the extended family and come to eat and are always in and out) told me he seriously believes that Osama bin Laden is a creation of the Pentagon. The whole thing is just one big conspiracy, he says. I'd never heard anyone say that before, and I was shocked! He and the others also seemed to believe that Al-Qaeda itself didn't really exist and if it did, that it couldn't be that bad!!!
2 - Polygamy is acceptable. Many of the men here have more than one wife. And it's normal. People talk about their father's "other wife" without embarassment. In the house I live in, the father has one wife in the house, another wife down the street, and a third who died 7 years ago. I was asking one of my friends if her mother and her father's other wife get along. She said they were friends, but they fought at lot.
3 - Many people have lost their mothers. I've met about three or four people so far whose mothers aren't alive. I'm sure there are many, many more. They don't usually say much more, but I suspect in some cases it's because they died of AIDS or some other disease that they don't like to talk about. And that is also considered just a fact of life. And they move on.
4 - Families are huge! My latest friend - Ndieme - who braided my hair for me, has 17 brothers and sisters (of course, not all from the same mother, but all from the same father)... Crazy !
5 - Many people have grade 6 education. A lot of the people I meet, who seem normal (ie. not poverty stricken and starving) have nothing more than a grade 6 education. The musicians, the hairdressers, etc. It's funny, another of my friends, Ndeye, (also from the hair salon), told me she wants her daugther to go to university. When I asked her why she didn't, she said she just wasn't interested. She wanted to work instead. It's the case for many people here, although many have impecable French despite the limited schooling. For most, Wolof is their native tongue, but French is a close second. I thought nowadays people stayed in school longer, but I guess that's still not the case.
6 - Stepfathers fall in love with their wives' daughters. This happens not uncommonly here, from what I hear. One singer had a music video about it, and that's how we got started on the topic. But apparently it's an issue. The girl often doesn't want anything to do with him, but in some cases, she does in fact have a relationship with the stepfather, and hides it from her mother. Can you believe?

Anyways, my eyes are being opened to new and interesting ideas everyday. So there's a taste!

The real Senegalese experience

People have been asking me what the craziest culture shock I've experienced is, and I've telling them that nothing has really been that shocking. Until now. Thanks to my new living arrangements, I have a long list of things to comment on.

I decided to move in with a Senegalese family for a while. They live in this big house about halfway between my work and downtown Dakar. Some of the 15 or so rooms in the house are taken up by family members of this huge family, others by squatters like me (apparenly there's a young American guy living here, but I haven't seen him). So what's different about this place? For starters, the bathroom. The communal bathroom I might add. Its basically a hole in the wall, with some tiles on the ground, a toilet, and a small spout that drips out one string of cold water (there's no hot water). Only, the spout of water is directly beside the toilet, no curtains, no separation, nothing. If I had to pee in the middle of the shower, it might be convenient, but otherwise it means a very wet toilet seat... Then there's my room, which is relatively large. But there's only one outlet (which means choosing between the fan and my phone charger), and the windows don't close (which means listening to the beautiful African street noise which never stops - thank God for the earplugs Enam!). Meals are included in the monthly rate. Yesterday, at dinner time (9:30pm) the mother of the family said to me, "Have you ever eaten 'a la Senegalaise' before?"... then she stuck a communal plate on the table and sat me down with four Senegalese men who all dug in immediately. (like the Horn of Africa restaurant where you order one plate that everyone shares with their hands). In any case, if I was hungry, I would have died because there wasn't enough food to go around. Luckily, my stomach has gotten to the point that it doesn't expect much food anymore, so it doesn't complain as much. In the morning, breakfast consisted of one baguette (which I assume was to be divided among everyone who lives there) and a block of butter. Oh and I forgot to mention that there are mosquitos in this neighbourhood, and I have neither a mosquito net, nor my malaria pills - or even bug repellant, because they were all in my luggage. As for the neighbourhood, you walk around literally among the sheep, which if you recall, are also present on the roof of the house.

So there you have it. Why am I subjecting myself to this? That's a question I was seriously asking myself yesterday. But it's cheap, it's real, and other people I know have lived here and seemed to like it. So I guess this is real African living. I can't go six months in Africa working in air-conditioned rooms, eating in Western restaurants and showering in world-class bathrooms, now can I?

The African Journalist

Sorry for the break in posting... I'm just drained and by the end of the day I have no energy left to blog!
I vowed this week never to complain about being a journalist in North America again, so someone hold me to that when I get back. You can spend an entire day here - and I mean the time that I would spend in Canada reading, researching, interviewing 5 or 6 people, and writing an article - just trying to get a hold of ONE person. The other day I spent 8 hours calling about 20 different numbers in Chad and could not get through to ANYONE!!! You call and get the busy signal (which doesn't actually mean it's busy, just that you can't get through), over and over again until you're ready to throw the phone against the wall. And when you do get through to someone, the line is so bad you can barely hear them. Add to that the fact that they're speaking in French, very quickly, with an accent. It all makes for a very difficult and frustrating reality!

In any case, I finally did get the article written. It was about different aid groups disputing whether there was in fact a malnutrition crisis in eastern Chad where about 150,000 people have been displaced because of attacks on their villages. In the end, it was a delicate topic, because some agencies were commenting on othersm, etc. etc. Once it was finished, someone quoted in the article realized that what he had said was perhaps undiplomatic, and complained. IRIN (who I work for) actually decided to change it and take out what he said! I've never seen that happen before.

Anyways, today, I did my first interviews outside of the office (most are done by phone). I went to a school in a poor neighbourhood of Dakar that has a pilot project going with computers in elementary school. When they told me about the story, I said, 'what's the big deal, they don't have computers in schools here?' And the answer was, 'they don't even have pencils and paper in the universities!' That was an exaggeration of course, but it's still pretty remarkable that in a shanty neighbourhood, where mountains are trash pile up on the streets and sheep roam free that classrooms have computers!

Here are some of the kids from the school:

Anyways, another post to follow shortly on my new living arrangements... that's a whole other story